


The Waystation

by PuppetMaster55



Category: Danny Phantom, Supernatural
Genre: Dash has a bad day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25488091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppetMaster55/pseuds/PuppetMaster55
Summary: Dash has a long night at work when someone stops by to change that
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	The Waystation

The gas station was a bright beacon in the darkness, and Dash looked around at the empty aisles with boredom heavy on his face. He did a double-take from the empty lot outside to the clock on the wall.

_1:37_ , the clock-face stated, and Dash flopped his head into his arms and groaned, loud and long. It was times like these that Dash really regretted that he’d gone for the play that had injured him; it had brought a swift end to his sports career, and he’d been left scrambling to bring his grades up enough to graduate. Now here he was: Dash Baxter, 20, gas station attendant. Not exactly the glamorous life he’d envisioned for himself.

Outside, the rumbling thunder of a semi rolled into the station, and Dash straightened up, patting out the creases in his vest. The semi idled near the pumps and Dash watched and waited. Seconds ticked by, and concern was settling in when a mouse of a woman circled around the front of the semi. She waved at the unseen driver, and entered the station. “Hey beautiful. Do you sell condoms in your size?”

Dash blinked, glancing from the semi – which was still sitting, idle, not even thirty feet beyond the door. “I – ma'am, that’s… kind of you. To ask, I mean. But I don’t think your… husband? Is, uh, my… size.”

“Oh, he’s just my ride. Really, I’m looking for your restroom.” She smiled, giggled, and Dash’s mouth went dry.

“The restrooms are ov–over there, just past the coolers.” She looked put out, and gave him a thorough once-over.

“Ah. So I’m not your type am I, Dash?” The woman grabbed him and pulled close, her breath hot and heavy and hard against his ear. “Well, we’ll just have to change that, now will we?”

Her tongue slipped out and into his ear, and – _not a tongue not a tongue notatongue_ long and slimy, the something slithered out of her mouth and burrowed into his ear, and briefly his balance was shot as there was a munching noise that consumed his eardrum and he was bleeding and screaming – but not, because his body wasn’t under his control anymore, and he was trapped, blind and deaf and unable to move in his own body.

“There.” Eve stepped back, admiring her work. “How does it feel, child?”

The creature – nameless, but not without identity – smiled at her. “Wondrous, mother.”

On the wall, the clock-face ticked away the seconds, the hands settling onto _1:40._


End file.
